


Flirting with Cops

by myriadofnothing



Category: White Collar
Genre: Alternate Universe - Slavery, Collars, Kissing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-21
Updated: 2012-05-21
Packaged: 2017-11-05 18:01:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/409370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/myriadofnothing/pseuds/myriadofnothing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A dominant police officer takes an interest in slave!Neal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Flirting with Cops

**Author's Note:**

> This is a glimpse into a Caste System AU, where Neal is released into Peter's custody as an indentured servant under contract. He is now of a lower caste, and while it is acceptable for him to be discriminated against by free persons, he is still protected by looser laws. It is illegal for a person besides his handler to grope or strike him, and depending on his specific contract, it might even be forbidden for his handler to do so.
> 
> Imagine the scene from S1E10 "Vital Signs," where Neal tricks some police officers into helping him break into a mark's car. Still playing the role of a grateful collared servant (and because this is fanfic), Neal invites them to take a traditional thank-you-kiss, assuring them that his handler would allow it if he was present.

"I should thank you properly, officers." Neal puts on his grateful smile and quirks one corner up for charm. He steps once forward, raises his eyebrows in a mild questioning invitation. The first officer returns a raised eyebrow but stays stoic. "Above the waist liberties are fine with him," Neal says, remembering. A lawman wouldn't touch without explicit permission, something about laws and lawsuits.

The officer smiles faintly and reaches for him. "Are they?" Rhetorical confirmation. "Come here." Neal takes another step, the officer's fingers plucking at his leash and guiding him forward the last half step. Neal assumes the usual inviting stance, tilting his head twenty degrees to the side and relaxing his mouth. The officer's lips touch his and move. The kiss is lips only and dry and patient. Neal breaths out slowly through his nose. The gentle tug of leather on the back of his neck feels pleasurable and safe. The mouth disappears before he expects it to. His released leash brushes his shirt front. Neal steps back out of the officer's space and tries not to look confused. The officer smiles politely and nods as he walks past Neal. _Oh. Appreciative of the gesture but not interested._

The second officer gives a sour smile and follows. "Have a nice day," Neal says. _Not gay, and didn't want to see that._ It's a bit different to invite liberties himself, he reflects, a bit like Neal Caffrey to forget the whole world wasn't dying to fuck him.  But Officer Three was waiting, trying to school a blank expression and failing to hide his humored anticipation. _Not the whole world, only most of it._

They stand at odds for a moment.

"Care for a turn?" Neal asks, remembering again: permission for the law-abiding lawman. The officer can't stop a small, mean grin breaking his composure. He uncrosses an arm and beckons deliberately, like he knows, specifically, everything he wants to do to Neal, and he's been waiting all day. Neal takes in the officer's manner and changes tact. He drops his gaze to the officer's shoes, then up again, trying for coy. He opens his eyes slightly wider and puts on a tenative smile. He puts his hands behind his back and approaches cautiously, watching for further body language.

The officer recrosses his arms, feet apart and braced; he doesn't shift. Neal reads, _I am dominant, I dare you to enter my space, and I will intimidate you while you are here._ He looks to the officer's face and sees a new predatory twist to his features. He seems to like Neal's hesitance, it must give him a thrill of power. Neal draws in until they're toe to toe. The officer's jaw is nearly clean shaven, just the barest shadow of dark stubble. His mouth is set again, only a small twist up at each corner left from its earlier show of teeth. The line from mouth corner to nose is deep, making him look about 40, or older, and his cheek is fleshy and taut. His eyes are squinting, eyebrows drawn together, but it looks like a habitual cop expression, not an indicator of current mood. Keeping up appearances, Neal looks him in the eye only briefly, then away to his mouth, as if he needs to gather more courage first. Then he tries again, and studies his eyes and the expressive muscles around them.

The officer studies him back. He has warm brown irises, patterned with dark brown rays. He is an inch or two taller than Neal, which would be barely noticeable if they weren't eye to eye. Neal watches him apparently look into one of Neal's eyes, then switch to the other. The officer shifts, and three fingers dig up under Neal's collar, careful and firm. The collar is tight on its own and there isn't room to fit fingers behind it. Neal tilts his chin up in acqueicence anyway. The fingers are to either side of his windpipe, but that's the only comfort. The officer flexes his grip, his joints digging back into Neal's neck. Neal breathes out an unhappy whisper. The wicked grin returns to the officer's mouth. His eyes open a little out of their squint.

He leans in and bites Neal's mouth. Not hard, but Neal gets the impression he wishes he could. Bad form to mark someone else's property. Neal feels the fingers against his neck stretch. He takes in a nervous breath, but the fingers only roll and settle in the tight space. Needing something to hold, his right hand grabs a fist of coarse uniform shirt. The officer bites along his lower lip, and Neal licks out at him. He tries to bite Neal's tongue too, then kisses him. He licks in Neal's mouth and Neal plays back with his tongue. Neil tucks his chin back down for a preferred angle, making the tops of the man's fingers dig into the curve of his neck. The officer's tongue is incessent, and the kiss gets wet and filthy. He tries to swallow but it feels like his throat can't make the necessary movement against the collar. A strangled noise originates from his throat and he jerks his free hand up to the officer's wrist.

The officer pulls back. Neal can feel saliva coating his lips. He tries to swallow again but aborts the attempt when he can feel his adam's apple pressing back into his larnyx. The officer watches the throat under his hand, facinated. Reluctant, he loosens his grip to only two fingers. Neal manages a swallow. He is kissed again, shortly, and then lips are at his ear.

"You could get in trouble, offering yourself to every man you meet on the street," The tone suggests he already is in trouble. Neal tries to look at him from the corner of his eye, but can only see the clipped dark haircut. It's not the advice of a policeman, it's the promise of the actual man gripping his collar. He strokes his thumb on the officer's wrist.

"Is that so?" Still coy.

Neal receives a mild bite against his jaw. The officer drags his fingers out from under the collar and steps back. His throat is sweaty from the contact, and air feels too cool against it. His windpipe still feels squeezed, like the fingers never left. Neal drops his hands, but the officer recaptures his right. His shirt cuff is pushed up his forearm and the officer, taking a pen from his chest pocket, scratches a number series on his arm.

"If your handler wants help punishing you," he says. The idea sends a thrill through Neal, though he can't decide if it's fear or arousal. _Both._ He straightens Neal's cuff for him, and the ink is hidden from view. He runs his thumb over Neal's lower lip, and then along the skin over his collar. The brown eyes are far away, imagining something else.

Peter would never accept; he'd be flabbergasted to hear Neal ask. He could get someone to pretend to be his handler and set up an invitation. Could he convince Mozzie read in the dining room while "his pet" played? Probably not. Maybe.

"I'm usually very good," Neal says with a cheeky smile, a real one. The officer comes back to the present, reflexively returning a smile. He shakes his head and shifts past Neal to head to his squad car.

"I doubt it," he says over his shoulder.


End file.
